


Some Things are Better Left Dead

by Dragonie



Series: Rain in the Desert [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Background Relationships, Comedy, F/M, Gen, Halloween, Lord Help Me I'm Back On My Bull, Wasteland Halloween 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonie/pseuds/Dragonie
Summary: Ulysses and Jane find a strange document and do some amateur archaeology.





	Some Things are Better Left Dead

The ancient paper crinkled in Jane’s hand as she looked it over carefully. The once glossy, white sheets had turned a crumpled yellow with age, but the dry air of the half-buried barracks had preserved the… Document?... Remarkably well.

It was a pity, she thought, that it was completely incomprehensible.

“Hey Ulysses,” she called. “You got any idea what this is?”

Her lover frowned as he drew code to get to examine the pages, covered in faded pictures of people in a variety of outlandish costumes.

“No,” he concluded after a thorough inspection, shaking his head. “Custom of the Old World, perhaps, lost all meaning in the fires. Fragments of a way of life long dead, haunting this place.”

Jane gave him a long look.

“You coulda just said you don't know, my man.”

(He didn't openly huff, because he was far too dignified and mature for that. But nevertheless, the huff was _implied_.)

“Hang on,” she took the paper back from him, thumb brushing over some stained lettering. “Seen this kinda thing before.” She pointed out a number with a slashed ‘S’ in front of it, the sign of the Old World dollar that the NCR had copied. “It's some kinda trader’s manifest or somethin’. Whatever these are-” she squinted at the luridly-dressed figures “-they're sellin’ ‘em.”

“Hn. Something ceremonial, perhaps,” Ulysses said thoughtfully, his academic curiosity clearly piqued. “Ritual of the Old World, one the Bear has yet to sink its claws into.”

“Maybe,” Jane mused. “Might not be the clothes they're sellin’, though.” She scanned the sea of perky bosoms and fishnet stockings. “Some of this gear wouldn't look outta place at Gomorrah, I reckon. Though I guess they'd be aimin’ for folks with some pretty strange tastes.” She laughed as she pointed out one busty blonde bearing the label of “Saucy Spook,” her attire an odd mixture of diaphanous white fabric and six-inch heels.

“Does seem to be a theme,” Ulysses conceded, looking a little disappointed that he had not, in fact, stumbled upon some untainted piece of Old World spirituality.

Jane flicked carefully through the catalogue, her eyes alighting on a particular figure.

“Reckon I met this one back in Zion,” she grinned, tapping on a girl described as a “Nefertitty the Mummy,” her swathe of bandages somehow contriving to leave bare a good portion of her bust, midriff, and red-painted lips. “Weren't lookin’ half so good then, though.” A mischievous spark danced in her eyes.

Ulysses snorted.

“Seen this one more than once.” He waved his hand at a buxom figure dubbed “Rough-Ridin’ Sally,” hat tilted rakishly over pigtail braids, wearing jeans cut up to the tops of her thighs and a sheriff’s badge pinned to a shirt that seemed to be having some difficulty containing her ample chest.

Jane doffed her hat with a playful bow.

“Why, thank you, kind sir. I'm choosin’ to take that as a compliment.”

She thumbed through another page, and then burst out laughing.

“Something amusing, Courier?” Ulysses looked at her curiously.

“It's - pffffthahaha - it's you!” she cackled, pointing.

He looked. Despite his better judgement, he looked.

A leggy redhead wore a tiny bikini top and a very short pleated skirt, both decorated in an all-too-familiar pattern of stars and stripes. In one hand, she held a comically oversized scroll of faux-parchment; in her other, a fluffy feathery quill. She completed the assemble with platform heels and a coquettish glance. The text at the bottom declared her name to be “Joan Handcock.”

He stared. He stared, because he couldn't take his eyes from the horrible thing, even as Jane guffawed beside him. She was still laughing when he tore the aging fragment into a million shreds, and she was _still_ laughing behind him when he stormed out of the old barracks and into the Divide.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay ialpiriel is absolutely to blame for this so please direct your complaints towards her (praise goes to me though, natch :P)


End file.
